The weekend is over friends, how do you feel about that? This is no great illusion when I'm with you I'm looking for a ghost or invisible reasons to fall out of love or run screaming from our home 'cause we live in a house of mirrors we see our fears and everything's our songs, faces, and second-hand clothes but more and more we're suffering, not nobody, not a thousand beers will keep us from feeling so all alone but you are what you love and not what loves you back that's why I'm here on your doorstep pleading for you to take me back and the phone is a fine invention it allows me to talk endlessly to you about nothing disguising my intentions which I'm afraid my friend are wildly untrue it's a sleight of hand, a white soul band, the heart attacks I'm convinced I have every morning upon waking. to you I'm a symbol or a monument your right of passage to fulfillment but I'm not yours for the taking but you are what you love and not what loves you back so I guess that's why you never call me back I'm fraudulent, a thief at best, a coward who paints a bullshit canvas: things that will never happen to me and at arm's length, it's Tim who said I'm good at it, I've mastered it avoiding, avoiding everything but you are what you love Tom not what loves you back and I'm in love with illusions so saw me in half I'm in love with tricks so pull another rabbit out of your hat